


Detox Consequences

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Embarrassment, Episode: s04e07 The Unicorn and the Wasp, Friendship, Humor, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The Doctor's cyanide detox has some added discomfort. It unfortunately doesn't end well..





	Detox Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Not to be confused with Forget_About_Me's story with the same name. I couldn't come up with a better title..

As soon as Agatha Christie agreed to help with the mystery, the Doctor jittered with excitement. Though, really, that wasn’t actually the reason he was physically jumpy. As soon as his bladder heard intense investigative work was imminent, it decided that it was a good time to remind the Doctor to go to the loo. The Doctor instantly rejected this mental request. He was solving a murder mystery. Plus, with all the 1920’s people around him, he was _not_ going to ask anyone where the toilet was, let alone run to the bathroom right after making plans for how to find the killer. Luckily it wasn’t too bad yet.

 

***********************

 

While Donna was miming two-worded nonsense at him, the Doctor regretted two things. One: Not explaining thoroughly the requirements for various detox methods in case of this very scenario. Two: Not using the loo earlier. He was certain he would leak, right after Donna kissed, but relaxed all muscles anyway, to allow him to fully exhale the cyanide. Thankfully, he was wrong. His bladder now a bit more full than earlier, due to the lemonade, he instantly decided to run to the loo, now that he knew where it was. For whatever reason, maybe because she had a clue as to where he was going, he noticed that Donna had not followed him. He reached the bathroom and tried to open the door. It didn’t work. He knocked on the door, which prompted a quick remark from Colonel Curbishley inside, judging by the frequency of the noise, not sitting down. But he couldn’t think about that particular secret, as he was forced to hop frantically with crossed legs. He was absolutely bursting. Even using both hands did nothing. It actually hurt.

 

One moment later, he heard Hugh flush, making him panic, and attempt to sit down closer to the door. However, as soon as he stepped to the left of the door, and hence had both legs apart, his bladder gave up.

 

_Oh no.._

 

He felt himself peeing full force into his trousers. The first impression, was immense relief. He wasn’t embarrassed yet, his mind focused on the fact that “when you’ve gotta go, you gotta go.” It had to happen. It was time. He blushed, and sighed in disappointment, due to the fact that he hadn’t made it. He closed his eyes partially, looking down at the puddle forming at his feet. He couldn’t help but smile after the dripping subsided. After all, health-wise, the result was brilliant. And he did feel better. His helpful positivity was interrupted, however, by Colonel Curbishley opening the door.

 

“All ready for you, Doctor!” he called out into the hallway. He couldn’t see him behind the door, so he closed it.

  
“Doctor? Are you alright?” he asked the Doctor ,who was standing completely still, unsure of what to do.

  
“Eh..not exactly,” the Doctor murmured in response, looking at Curbishley, a slight blush on his face, smiling awkwardly.

 

Getting an inkling about what was wrong, the Colonel looked down below the Doctor. As he thought, there was an obvious, considerable wet spot.

 

“Didn’t make it?” he asked, despite the evidence.

 

“No,“ the Doctor replied, glumly.

 

“No worries, my dear chap. It happens.” Curbishley assured him, patting him lightly on the back. The Doctor nodded, half-smiling. He shook thoughts of doubt about the Colonel’s words, and shame, off his mind, taking a deep breath, restoring his self-confidence.

 

“Could you get Donna? She’ll know how to help.” the Doctor requested.

 

“Yes, of course. How shall I put it?” Hugh asked.

 

“Just tell her to grab spare clothes from the car” the Doctor answered, half-lying. He didn’t have a _car_..

 

“Got it. Right away, Doctor,” Hugh promised, going down the stairs.

 

Donna and Agatha Christie were waiting right below the stairs, for the Doctor. Donna frowned at seeing the Colonel frowning, presumably coming from the bathroom, either before or after the Doctor.

 

“Something wrong with the Doctor?” Donna asked instinctively.

 

“Indeed.” he replied, signalling for her to follow him to talk in private.

 

“He needs you to get him a new set of trousers and pants from your car,” he explained.

 

“Oh, I see. Poor Doctor,” Donna remarked in sympathy.

 

Hugh Curbishley nodded in agreement. Donna nodded, walking away to help her friend. The word “car” didn’t faze her, she knew that meant “TARDIS”.

 

She went into the TARDIS, walked down below the console where she had found a winter coat earlier, presumably put there from her bags, either by the Doctor or the TARDIS. She found a pair of trousers matching the (now) wet ones, a plastic bag for the laundry, and curiously, question mark boxers. ‘ _You know best.._ ’ she commented to the ship, who was likely responsible for them being at the top of the pile. The ship hummed confidently.

 

Donna walked back to Hugh, who was holding a towel. She grabbed the towel and went up to the still soaked Time Lord.

 

“Hey. I got what you need,” she greeted the Doctor, smiling at him in sympathy. The Doctor stepped out of the puddle, smiling at the sight of the clothes and laundry bag. “Thank you so much, Donna,” he said, taking the pile of clothes. As soon as he did, Donna embraced him in a hug, being careful to avoid his wet lower half. The Doctor freed his left arm from the clothes and wrapped it around her, nesting his head on her shoulder, enjoying the cozy feeling. Both stroke each others shoulders affectionately.

 

“Towel’s for the floor, hide the spot,” she explained.

  
“Mhm,” he mumbled back.

 

“Was there still cyanide left in your system, or does your urine always smell like that?” Donna asked suddenly, as she broke up the hug, stroking his upper waist. The Doctor sniffed to check.

 

“Yeah, that’s normal. Just your everyday stinky Time Lord urine!” the Doctor answered with a laugh. Donna shook her head in amusement.

 

“There we go,” she said, putting the towel over the spot, which covered it completely. “You just leave that, go get cleaned up. Want me to wait out here or downstairs?” she asked, reassuringly.

 

“Downstairs please,” the Doctor replied. As soon as Donna was gone, he walked into the bathroom. He tried not to think about what he could have had, had it gone differently..

 

He undressed, and dried himself off with some toilet paper, and put the wet clothes, and socks, in the bag, then washed his hands. He looked at what clothes Donna had brought, noticing the question mark underpants. He smiled. ‘She knows me so well..’ he thought, referring to both Donna and the TARDIS. He got re-dressed in the clean clothes. He instantly felt much better, now that he was clean and dry. He put on his shoes, grabbed the bag and went out of the bathroom to meet Donna. He was relieved to see Agatha Christie had been led somewhere else, so he could put away his clothes in the TARDIS without detection. Next, was dinner, which was soup, laced with alien wasp poison, aka pepperine, so the Doctor quickly forgot his little “accident”, in favour of unmasking the Wasp. The End.


End file.
